Questions to Answers
by Echo of an Idiot
Summary: Courier Six awakens in a strange place around people she's never known. With memories failing her and any hope of uncovering her past long since gone she strives to uncover who she is.  M for language and violence. Slated to become Christine/Courier
1. Prologue Ashes to Ashes…

AN: Ok so this is mainly a pilot chapter to set up teh courier. Later chapters will be slightly longer and hopefully better. Also this is planned to evolve into a Christine/Courier so yes its a yuri. Don't like don't read. If your still here then I assume you don't mind the pairing then review and let me know how I did. Flames are also welcome here.

*Spoilers for Lonesome Road* *You have been warned*

YALL READY FOR THIS…

Lightning streaked across the sky as the bellowing thunder rattled shutters on buildings below. More and more it lit the sky, and like the gods themselves had opened the floodgates, the rain poured from the blackened sky as if trying to drown the town below. The wind blew with the force not seen since before the war, kicking up trash and debris and throwing them with unknown force into and sometimes through whatever got in its way.

Families and friends huddled together in the pre war structures, crowding around fires in an attempt to ride out the viscous storm. As the rain seeped in through the many cracks in the roof and gusts of wind blew through unpatched holes in the walls they sought shelter not in the crumbling concrete but in their families. Every last resident of The Divide held clutched onto hope, hope that the storm would pass and the darkness growing on the horizon wouldn't swing their way.

In all the storm's fury it no one could even imagine trying to step foot outside, and yet there stood a lone courier on the horizon, package slung under her arm and pistol on her hip. Her face, pelted by rain droplets feeling more like stones from the cold and the wind she was forced to once again don her helmet, a pre war riot mask. On her shoulders hung a midnight black cloak protecting the rest of her from the frigid spray and held from taking flight only by hands sunk deep into pockets on its sides. The glowing eyes of the mask and black cloak gave her the image of death stalking through the storm, prowling for a victim.

Quite ironic considering how she'd given birth to this country on the verge of taking its first breath. Ironic itself in the light that it had already, unknowningly, drawn its last. She took in every last detail she could as she made her way through the flooded streets, committing it to memory as if she could save a small part of it in herself. Like the atrocity she was about to commit wouldn't be as bad if she remembered each of their faces, and kept them alive in her memories.

As she walked she adjusted the crate carried under her arm. The box was small enough but heavy, almost as much as the burden resting on her shoulders and marked, pre war military etched into the wooden planks. But the marks went deeper than just scribbles and scratches, it was marked by mad men thinking themselves gods and marked by death itself, signing the death warrant for the false gods.

She drew to a stop in the middle of the street and knelt to retrieve a metallic sphere from the ground, buried under wind blown debris. The eyebot as it had once been, sputtered and clicked like the machinery within was an old man on his death bed, choking out a final message with his last breath. Yet this old messenger, observer, warrior, and wanderer still had one last message to deliver.

The woman cracked open the case and within was a large computer like device, olive green shell and black letters relaying a message that had long lost its purpose. As it opened she attached several cables to the eyebot still staring blankly at her, waiting for its final mission. Turning back to the screen of the device now bathing her in a blue light she pulled her helmet off her head and cast it aside allowing her ice white hair to cascade down around her face, barely brushing the tops of her shoulders.

The woman ignored the sting of the rain and bite of the cold as she slid the glove from her hand, revealing the milky white skin underneath. Taking a single digit she keyed in a long sequence of numbers on a built in keypad, and as she was about to hit the confirm command she hesitated. Thinking about exactly what she was doing, all she was ending and all the reasons behind it.

A single tear fell from her eye and landed on the screen as she keyed in the last command. A timer appeared on the screen as it flashed from blue to a deep red. Counting back from ten each second seemed to take an eternity to tick by. But however slow time seemed to crawl it still pressed on and true to its word ten seconds after the timer activated it flashed zero and the eyebot bellowed out to the slumbering giants buried in the Earth, its words were lost on the courier however. Drowned out by the deafening silence, and hidden by the emptiness filling her.

The flash on the horizon bright enough to rival the sun and a shockwave slamming her into a wall were also lost on her. The only thing she could see were the faces she'd never see again, the life she had breathed into the wasteland, her home, port in the storm, her light in the ever growing darkness flickered and died. And a part of herself died along with it.

More blinding flashes sprung up as tremors shook the ground with enough ferocity to split the Earth in half. Yet she still lay motionless, propped up against the wall she had been slammed into. As the flashing continued and the ground quaked she finally succumbed to the overwhelming fatigue and let the final threads of consciousness slip from her grasp.

AN: Before you say something the chapter was supposed to be that vague. So if you made it this far maybe you'll consider going a little further and drop me a review.


	2. Chapter 1 Waking up

AN: Ok, here we go. First real chapter of Questions to Answers. Not much to say other than hope you enjoy the fic and of you feel up to it, how bout a review.

IT'S THAT TIME AGAIN

Blue eyes snapped open and darted around the room taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. The sterile white walls and roof offered little help in determining where she was. So all the senses were sent into overdrive, the familiar scent of antiseptic and the sound of heartrate monitor happily beeping away, were the things that she took from it all.

"Hospital." She muttered to herself. With a groan she lifted herself up into a more upright position and found her assumptions correct. She was currently situated on one of the many beds lining the edges of the treatment facility. Each bed separated by a wall probably built more for containment than privacy.

Over in the center of the room were several desks and carts of various operating equipment that could be deployed anywhere in the room in seconds. With all the speed of a crippled brahamin she hoisted herself from the bed and planted her bare feet on the freezing ground. Covered in only a thin hospital gown, that did nothing for the arctic conditions of the room, she made her way to the central area.

Outside her "room" she found the hospital must have been having one damn slow day as she was the only patient here. In fact, there was but one other person in the entire place. In a while lab coat, hunched over a desk, scribbling madly on a sheet of paper they seemed no more aware of the world than the dead. From her vantage point she couldn't tell weather he was a she or she was a he, so not knowing who it was she settled for the more vague approach of "Hey you."

That seemed to work well enough as its head jerked upright and spun around to face her. The surprised look on his face was soon replaced with a warm smile, almost welcoming in appearance. "Your awake."

"Yeah, kinda obvious. Where are my clothes?" She responded with a hint of irritation at the fact she was still naked underneath her gown.

The man looked away rubbing the back of his neck. "You see when we brought you in you were highly irradiated, we had to dispose of your belongings. All of them."

A roll of her eyes and a brief bout of sarcasm later and she was back to interrogating the doctor. "Great. That's fuckin wonderful. So where exactly am I?

"Field hospital outside New Haven, patrol found you out cold in the middle of nowhere." He turned and rifled through some papers on the desk before plucking one out of the bunch and turning back to her. "You didn't have any identification on you when the brought you in so if you could help me out with a name that'd be great."

"My name?" Now that she thought about it she couldn't recall what it was. "My name?" No memories were coming forth, she couldn't name where she came from, where she lived or even her fucking name. "I… I can't remember."

Now she was scared, no name, no past, no foreseeable future. The worries ran through her mind a mile a minute. She had no money. She hadn't a place to stay, or a source of income. All this and more suddenly came crashing down around her. She felt light headed.

Stumbling forward she landed herself in a chair that someone had left out. With forehead buried in her palms she racked her brain for answers. 'What was her fucking name?'

The doc leaped toward her as he saw her go down. Luckily she had found that chair before she found the ground. Using a radio on his coat he called a person in the other room, "Layla, bring me a glass of water. No it can't wait."

He was at her side trying to calm her after the slight disagreement. "Hey its ok. You just need some time, just calm down and it'll come back on it's own. Amnesia usually wears off before to long."

Layla, his fiery red headed assistant with a temper to match, barged through the door with a bottle of water in hand. "Tom I'm not your damn-" whatever else she was about to say was lost as she saw their newest patient hunched over in a chair. "What'd I miss?" She asked handing over the bottle.

The now nameless woman snatched the bottle and greedily gulped down the contents. Half the bottle was gone before she dropped it from her lips. "Memory loss." Tom stated.

"Poor girl, I don't recall any missing persons reports being filed." She padded the woman's shoulder. "If you need a place to stay I've a friend that'll put you up."

The woman shook her head, "Thanks but I don't know if I can stay. Was there anything that said where I was from?" She asked.

He thought for a few seconds before realization dawned on him. "There was a deck of cards, from the Tops Casino in New Vegas. Its good a place as any to start."

"How the hell am I going to get to New Vegas? I don't even know where I am or where it is." She muttered. Her mind was still running through everything it could recall, witch wasn't much. Faces with no names barely ghosts in the mind were present. Looking like a collection of villagers but no signs as to where they were from. The NCR, that name sat in her mind for some odd reason. Looking up at her doctors she decided they might be of some help. "Who is the NCR?"

Layla raised an eyebrow at that. "Its the New California Republic. Your sitting in one of their hospitals right now." She stated.

The woman nodded, "Oh, well thanks. Any ideas on getting some work around here?"

"Caravans stop here for a break before heading down the long 15. You can try to link up with one, either as a guard or just traveling with them. Should make it up to Vegas in about a week. And if you can't get a guard posting the Mojave Express always has something to run out that way. Their office is across the street from the barracks." Layla informed her.

"Thank you. I hate to ask more of you but, you wouldn't happen to have a spare change of clothes lying around would you." She inquired.

Layla smirked as she looked over the girl and saw she indeed needed those clothes. "Yes one might need something to cover herself with in a world such as this. I'll go grab you a change. It ain't pretty but at least you won't be naked."

"I appreciate it." These people were being awfully kind to her, and at this rate she'd be in dept to them for the rest of her natural born life. Something witch she wasn't quite comfortable with.

Thirty minutes later the still nameless woman stood outside the door to the local Mojave Express office in a set of tight fitting doctor's fatigues. The neon sign almost seemed to stare back at her, expectantly. She had no name, and not a cap to whatever it may have been. Taking a deep breath and exhaling she took her first step to the rest of her life.

Right into a barely lit, smoke filled office building. The air was much hotter than the already scorching outside and the lack of circulation made it feel stagnant. The scent of cheap cigarettes assaulted her nose and burned her eyes, in the air hung the thick smoke almost like a fog. Beyond that the lack of interior lighting left only a single window in the back to illuminate room. Trash littered the floor, cigarette buds, papers and the random assortment of office supplies were strewn about as if a tornado had torn through the interior.

She instantly hated that place. And she was sure the smell of smoke taint her clothes for the next few days. As she stood taking in the place a door swung open to her left.

From it walked a man, looking to have seen more years than she dared count. His face was old and weathered but his eyes told a different story. Finally from his lips hung the very reason the air in this place seemed to choke the life from her, the smoldering stub that used to be a cigarette at one point. He spoke in a gravely voice that assaulted her ears in a most unpleasant fashion. "Your Late."

His tone left little room for interpretation of his mood. Not entirely hostile, but still pissed. "If you can't bother to show up on time for your biggest payday of the year then get the hell out."

The woman blinked at his abruptness before her brain caught up with her. "You know who I am?"

The man just seemed to grow more annoyed with her question but answered none the less. "Of course I do. Your Courier Six aren't you. You were supposed to pick up the House account three days ago."

Her heart sank at that, "Thats all you know about?" She questioned, still holding hope that there might be something on who she was.

The man just shook his head, "What else is there to know. Female, 5'10", and White hair. Beyond we don't take down anything else. Now are you here for the package or what?"

"Package?" She questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, the package." He dug around in a his pants pocket, cursing when his lighter fell out, finally he withdrew a brown envelope that had been folded in on itself several times. "To be hand delivered to the Lucky 38 in New Vegas." He tossed it to her with the flick of his wrist, "Now scram, your already late."

AN: See told you it'd be longer. Now only if I knew it was better. Why don't you help me out on that one with a review.


	3. Chapter 2 Restless

AN: Well this certainly took long enough hasn't it. It's not my favorite of chapters but in my opinion it turned out rather well. Friends are met and lost and our beloved Courier gets a name. So that's all there is to say, other than please review.

Here we goes again

The day was beautiful, cool breeze blowing through the valley, through open windows of ancient brick buildings, providing fresher air for those living within. Outside in the maze of broken asphalt and concrete gutters children laughed, giggling as they ran through the streets playing whatever the game of the day was. Their families close at hand, enjoying the day for all it had to offer and reminiscing of days prior. It was in this variable paradise that she found herself standing. At the edge of the town, on the road that used to be the only lifeline for the pre-war city. As she made her way into the mass of persons flooding the streets the residents slowly took notice of the courier amongst their ranks, admiring their peaceful little town. Her peaceful little town. Everyone was at peace, everything thing was right with the world and she felt at home. This felt right, and there was nothing else.

But then the calm was shattered by a blinding light appeared on the horizon. A soundless explosion shattered the sky and shook the earth. With a light that burned all that it shined upon, scorching the walls, and melting the skin from muscle and muscle from the bones of everything in sight. Her home disintegrated before her very eyes, and the sky itself burned.

The pain quickly took hold of her, burning like her skin had been set ablaze. She turned and ran with all the speed she could manage but she couldn't outrun the light. The pain all the while grew ever greater, feeling like death itself was breathing down her neck.

Suddenly something caught her leg and sent her falling forward. The ground hit hard, gravels digging through frail skin and spilled her life blood upon the dirt. She looked back at what she had tripped over and almost lost it when she saw a skeletal hand wrapped around her ankle. Muscle blackened and charred barely clung to the bones and miraculously held it all together. Then the rest of the arm came into view, dragging behind it a burnt corpse. Cut off at the waste it dragged itself over the rocks, trailing organs and shredded tissue. It picked up its head and started at her without eyes, the skin of its face barely clinging to charred bones. With a hundred voices speaking in unison it spoke at her. "You killed us! Why? WHY'D YOU MURDER US?" The voices boomed with enough force to sent her sailing into a wall where she impacted with a sickening crack. Still the light burned at all it could find. Slowly her vision narrowed, the color draining. The last thing seen was a figure, cloaked in black with two blood red eyes staring into her. Death was its purpose and she its victim.

Courier six jumped awake, hand unconsciously bringing her pistol up at the darkness. Slowly the world came into focus and with it the visions of the past subsided back into her dreams. These dreams, more like nightmares had been haunting her sleep ever since she had awoken in that damn hospital. Why she had them she couldn't tell you, all she knew was that the faces never changed.

Thumbing the safety back on she set the gun back down on her pack. Mojave Outpost was safe enough. The encampment seemed the perfect place to rest her heels for the night, but there was an old saying that crept forward as an unwelcome reminder. 'There ain't no rest for the wicked.'

She ran her hands through her hair, damp with sweat, and slicked it back put of her face. Taking a sleeve she dried the tears from her cheeks and looked for a water fountain. Her throat was dry and the last thing she needed was another shot after her drinking contest with the outpost's resident drunk. She stumbled through the darkness until she fell against the cool metal casing of the object of her search. After several attempts at drowning herself her thirst was sated and she glanced around the vacated bar.

Cass had simply passed out where she sat knocking over a bottle and several shot glasses. Someone had at least had the decency to drag her to a bed but the broken glass on the floor remained. The area behind the bar was neat and tidy, thanks to the resident barkeep with OCD. Funny as it might be to mess with her, the courier left the shelves alone and continued her scan of the building.

Eventually her eyes came to rest on a window in the front of the building, and the moonlit wastes clearly visible through the pane of glass. It was something she found she just couldn't look away from. The way the sand caught the pale light, and the wind stirring up little drifts of dust. For whatever reason she found she needed to be out there… any thought into the matter she made for the door.

As soon as the chilled night air contacted her skin she felt as if a weight had been lifted from her chest and she could breath for the first time in ages. The cool air filled her lungs and never had there been a more wonderful feeling in the short time she could remember. With her mind enjoying the world for all it was worth, her body set itself into autopilot and proceeded to aimlessly wander around the camp.

Feet willing her to go she eventually found herself perched on the rooftop of the barracks. From her standpoint the wastes looked so peaceful. Pale light glimmering over windswept dunes, distant lights flickering across the desert, warming the bodies who were sure to be bathing in the light around them. Taking another deep breath of the delicious air she closed her eyes and just listened. To the wind, to the hum of the lights overhead, to the footsteps crossing the courtyard.

'Wait? Footsteps?' She thought. The only others awake were the perimeter guards who where nowhere near. But there they were, the click of boots on asphalt. Curiosity getting the best of her she decided to see who it was that was still up at this hour. Slowly she brought herself to look out over the courtyard. Lit by harsh overhead lamps the hardtop gleamed like a supernova.

She quickly scanned over it and located the source of the disturbance. A lone figure strolling through the checkpoint in the strangest of attire. Almost like a black combat armor, but the way she moved in it. Graceful yet demanding authority at the same time. Something about her was different than anyone else, all the people up until then had been a hell of a lot more skittish. Like they'd faint at the drop of a hat, everyone looking over their shoulders. They were afraid. Of the NCR the Legion, hell, even the local wildlife scared the piss out of the travelers here. Everyone felt their neck upon the chopping block and you could see it in their faces.

But not her. She walked though the wastes fearing not man nor creature. Like she was the top of the foodchain, the wolf amongst sheep. Then as she stepped into the light more of her features were brought to light. Though hard to see at a distance the scars were none the less visible. Like the great canyon to the east they divided her otherwise flawless face, though somehow she still managed to catch more than just the courier's eye. But, then again, it wasn't her appearance that stood her out the most. It was her eyes, set and determined on the horizon. A woman on a mission if ever there was one.

The drive behind her steps, unknown as it was, was still the most unstoppable force she'd ever witnessed. It was the Courier Six made a rather concerning discovery, while pondering the woman she seemed to have drifted off for a minute, and had lost sight of the stranger. She felt… something at that realization, she had wanted to see more of that person. Why, she didn't know, but she had definitely wanted the stranger to stick around.

As she looked over the courtyard once more she didn't notice the light footfalls climbing up the ramp beside her. Nor did she notice when a person came to stand beside her. Fatigue was catching up with her and that bedbug ridden mattress was looking all the more comfortable. She looked out over the silent wastes once more and was about to start back to her bed when a person spoke up beside her. "It's something else isn't it."

The voice, feminine in tone, surprised her more than she'd like to admit. But as it continued the courier found she could care less that this person had snuck up on her. "Seemingly so peaceful, quiet. But under it all lies the biggest powder keg west of the divide, just waiting for a spark."

The courier looked over at the source of the voice, and sure enough it was her. Same black combat armor, same face, and here she was. But for the life of her she couldn't tell why. Deciding she'd better toss back a response else the stranger might take her for a mute she opened her mouth only to be silenced once more by that decidedly soothing voice. "But I suppose that matters not at the moment. Not for us anyway."

The courier was honestly surprised, this stranger knew her better than she did herself. In her confusion she barely managed to ask the all to simple question of, "What do you mean, Us?"

"You can try all you want. Fact of the matter is you call neither of these 'countries' home." She stated in a matter-o-fact tone. " Its in the way you look at desert there. Not eager to come or go, not with want nor need. But with contentment only seen when returning home. You care as little for the NCR and Legion as I."

The courier could safely say she learned something about herself that night, but she was not about to let that be the end of it. "And what of yourself, since you have no connection with either and were about to storm through the Mojave like a woman possessed, where might you hail from?"

"West." She stated.

"West?"

"West."

"Not very helpful."

"Enough if you know what your looking for." Her tone suggested it wasn't the most comfortable of subjects and the Courier wisely dropped the subject. Whatever, wherever this person called home would wait.

"So, what brings you to this wonderful little slice of paradise?" The courier questioned, trying to keep the conversion going.

The woman's gaze hardened as she answered. "Looking for someone, you?"

"Looking for myself." Instantly she berated herself for saying something so stupid.

Before she could actually get around to kicking herself the stranger started laughing, not a harsh, at you laughing. But a warm, light natured chuckle, "That's something else, how did you lose yourself?"

The Courier smirked at the halfhearted joke, "Don't rightly know. Woke up in a hospital without a memory of myself and not a cap to whatever my name may have been."

The stranger blinked, her smile fading as the words left the courier's mouth, "Damn, sorry to hear that. So what do I call someone without a name?"

The Courier thought about it for a second before remembering the old man at the Mojave Express office "Courier Six has been the most popular so far."

"Courier?" The stranger repeated, almost surprised to hear that. "Hmm… it does have a nice ring to it, but how about Six for short?"

"Six… I can live with that." She held out her hand, "I'm Six, pleasure to meet you."

The stranger laughed, Six instantly decided she liked that laugh, "Nice to meet you Six, you can call me Cristine"

The night passed far to quickly for either of them. They shared laughs and tears, just talking, one stranger to another. Christine shared some of her past and Six touched on what memories she could recall. But as dawn broke their destinations demanded their attention once more, Six tracking down any memory of who she may've been and Cristine tracking down the man who'd caused her so much pain. One northern bound, the other going traveling farther south. Goodbyes were said and they went their separate ways, both hoping to see that strange woman again, from Mojave Outpost. But both knowing the harshness of the wasteland, knew it could never be.

AN: So, how were it? Worth that all to long wait. Worth a review maybe?


	4. Chapter 3 The one that got away

AN: Another chapter done, and another seed of the courier's story is sown. As always reviews are appreciated and feel free to flame the hell out of it if you do so desire.

F3ARSOM3: Extremely glad you enjoyed it as of thus far. I did try to keep it as original as possible because the cookie-cutter is a real problem here. And I swear if I see another Fcourier/Boone or Flw/Charon I'll kill someone. I mean really, it's insane how many there are. Anyway, rambling done, thanks for reviewing and do enjoy the show.

* * *

><p>"Truth is sweetheart, game was rigged from the start." Staring down the barrel of a 9mm, hands bound behind her back. That wasn't the way she imagined going out, not that she'd ever thought it over in the first place. Hell it was only a week and a half ago she'd gotten a life to begin with.<p>

The two men flanking him, Great Khans they called themselves, were skittish as a Coyote in a Deathclaw den. Probably junkies, on another power trip. When one jumped st the sound of a rock tumbling down a hill she swore he about pissed his pants. "Lets get this over with Benny, place ain't right."

The man in the checkered suit looked about ten seconds from shooting the bodyguard instead of her. Keeping the gun trained on her head he turned towards the jumpy guard. "Will you grow a pair for once in yo-" the suit was cut short as a lance of red light shot forth, striking the Khan dead center of the chest.

Six felt the heat off the laser as it lanced by her head, and apparently so did Benny as he jumped back like he'd been burnt. The gun in his hands fired off its payload, grazing the side of her head. The Khan crumpled like a wet noddle and the silent one off to the left screamed an incoherent battle cry and jumped forward into the shallow grave that had been dug in front of her. Benny meanwhile hauled ass over the hillside behind the wooden tower leaving the wheezing burnt body of a Khan behind.

Thanking the gods above they didn't tie her feet together Six lurched forward and stumbled to her feet. Her head was pounding from the blow to the head she received walking from the saloon, and a trickle of blood was running down her neck but damn it all if freedom didn't feel absolutely great. Two seconds, that's how far she was from salvation. Two measly seconds were all she needed to leap that fence and return to wherever she was before. Two seconds it took for all that hope to come crashing down around her.

9mm rounds scattered dust around the makeshift foxhole the silent Khan was hunkered in. He jumped up ready to empty his SMG into the bastards that dared challenge the Great Khans. Too late did he realize what it was he was up against. Greeting him at the edge of the grave was a glaring red cowboy's disembodied face. And projecting that face, an eight foot securitron, Gatling Laser recharged and ready to rock and roll. He blinked as the whine of the engine spooling up sounded the calling of the Reaper.

Red death leapt from the rotating glass lenses, burning through leather and wool like it was paper, searing the flesh beneath. Life fading from his eyes he started his final descent, almost laughable that he would die in a grave he'd dug himself for some nobody courier. His back his back hit the edge of the pit and weather it was fate or just the divines above toying toying with their playthings, Six was just making her break for the fence beside him. A subconscious reflex in his arm tensed his fingers, the trigger depressed and the gun came to life. Raining hot lead just where Six was jumping for.

The Courier never saw it coming, one second she was free and the next hot pain was raked across her back. Six pricks stabbed across her back and up her neck. In the final moments with her face in the mud there was no pain, only a face. One face, her light, in the wasteland, Christine. In those precious seconds she relived that night at the outpost. The pains in her back slowly started to lose feeling as her body went numb, all seven… seven? There was only six bullets, but seven pricks of pain. As fatigue overcame her she could only pray, pray to a deity she couldn't be sure even existed, that she'd find Christine again.

* * *

><p>Doc Michale was a retired vault medic. He wasn't a doctor or surgeon, hell he barely could wield a scalpel anymore. The most he did on the week by week circuit was hand out band-aids for the lizard bites that these townsfolk managed to rack up on their trips to the well. So when the town's newest robotic inhabitant barged through the door with some half dead girl he'd never seen before, well he was at a loss for words that was for sure.<p>

But as luck would have it she was stronger than most, the Five bullets he could dig out went without a hitch. The last… He personally hadn't a clue as to how she was still breathing. The shot had struck the back of her skull, the bullet fragmented, saving her life but now. She was lucky to even be alive, he figured leaving the lead wouldn't do any more harm that had already been done, so he stitched up her wounds and turned in. For the third time in one night. He really needed to set office hours so people would leave him alone at night.

* * *

><p>The Courier awoke in a hospital bed for the second time in a few weeks and this time she was in considerably more pain. Thankful that it was still dark she slid the blanket down off her chest, and found she was all but nude underneath. She was beginning to think doctors were just looking for reasons to undress her, but as memories of the previous night crawled their way out of her subconscious she found she could've cared less that she was naked.<p>

"Benny." She growled, that name was one she wouldn't soon forget. Those Khan bastards got what they deserved but if they died then that meant whoever had killed them was responsible for her being there, "Just racking up the debts from these people." She thought as she remembered the others that had aided her so far.

The room she was in now looked more a bedroom than operating room. Medical equipment was scattered about for sure, but it was more… homey than her previous awakening had been. Her clothes were neatly folded, resting on an end table at the foot of her bed, and a folded piece of paper resting on top of them.

Wondering what the hell it might be she thought to sit up and retrieve the scrap of paper. "AAHHH… FUCK!" A pained yelp was followed by more incomprehensible explicitives. The reason for witch was simple. The fucking holes in her back had not yet healed, and proved that point by shooting intense pain all up her spine.

Giving up on the note for the time being Six turned her attention to the bandage wrapped around her skull. It was a simple bandanna, in all likely hood it was just being used to keep pressure on whatever wound was currently pounding away at the back of her skull. She reached up to adjust it to keep her hair from getting pulled out by the headband. Her fingers brushed the course fabric and the word spun…

-Flashback-

_It was raining, the cool autumn air just barley below what was accepted as reasonably comfortable. The water was running between rocks, like raging rapids carving their paths down the mountain side. Her hands were stuck into the pockets of her duster to ward off the bite of the cool air. The from them was retrieved a plain scrap of fabric almost recognizable as a head band._

_Looking into the well worn and slightly stained fabric she saw out of place stitching, easily identifiable as tally marks. Thirty six was the end total count of marks in the band. Quickly she brought it up and tied back her hair with practiced ease, like a glove fits a hand this seemed tailored to her._

_Then she swung the rifle around off her back, so light and balanced she almost didn't feel it strapped around her back. The scope caps came off and the bolt slid like clockwork. The smell of gun oil still in the action was accompanied by the metallic clack as she slid it shut and locked the 30-06 bullet home. The weapon was well maintained and had definitely survived it's battles well._

_Like an extension of her body itself she shouldered the rifle and sighted her target. Down the steel and glass tube was the head of the most feared animal in all the wastes. Its demonic horns and gaping maw of jagged spears it used as teeth identified it as a Deathclaw. And a female as well, the neck was thicker and its head was slightly more bulky than that of a male. The crosshairs drifted up and left, accounting for the wind and bullet drop off on instinct and practice alone. Her finger squeezed the trigger and the bark of the rifle echoed across The Divide. The white trail of the tracer slicing through the air was easily visible and she watched the round fly into the skull of the creature and the subsequent plume of blood spraying the sand behind it._

_The rifle seemed to move on its on accord as the bolt flew open at her hand. A puff of smoke wafted out with a spent shell casing as a fresh bullet was rammed home. This second nature cycle took less than a second and in that time a new target was in the sights. Male Deathclaw, smaller than the female, but that only meant it was faster. Intersecting lines drifted past its demonic features and without hesitation the rifle coughed again, spitting another lead slug through the air and into the monsters throat, tearing arteries and spraying the ground beneath._

_The bolt slammed home again, and again the report of the rifle sounded the end of a beast's life. Five times the woman repeated the motions, five dead bodies strewn over half a mile away._

_From beside her a voice made itself heard to the world for the first time since the executions had began. "Five huh? Why that's a new record isn't it? Showoff."_

_The woman lowered her rifle and looked over at the voice. She was a mere child, at the age of eight. Clothes of prewar overalls and a sleeveless blue shirt covered the girl. She was always there after the hunt, weather she followed her up there or followed the gunfire was a mystery, but what was clear was that she was fascinated by it all. The creatures that she hunted, the military precision with witch they were dispatched, and the woman herself. "It's not showboating when its survival. Now come Jessie, your friends are probably worried sick about you."_

-End Flashback-

Six's hands froze, grasping at the cloth bandage, tears brimming in her eyes. Silent as the wind she breathed a hoarse whisper, "Jessie." The girl, no longer just a ghost of memory, now flooded her mind. Memories shared with her, like a daughter would mind her mother. Nothing beyond those moments between the two could be recalled, but her name and person behind her were all too vivid at the moment.

Six was lost enough to not take notice of an elderly man entering the room and taking the seat beside the bed. "Ahem," he cleared his throat, gathering her attention as he did. "Glad to see your still breathing.

* * *

><p>AN: Decided to end it here, just cause. You all know what happens next, next chapter will skip a considerable amount of time. Or not, depends on how I feel. Drop me a review and give me some thoughts.<p> 


	5. Chapter 4 Outcast

AN: Well it certainly took long enough to get to here but at least I made it at all. Anyways, assuming I can stay out of the hospital for a considerable amount of time the next chapters will hopefully be a bit quicker. Now to my wonderful reviewers-

Mr. Guest: Glad your enjoying it so far. I try to keep my work neat and tidy but there's only so much one Idiot can do. Know anyone that wants to beta, I'd happily accept the help. Anywayz, thanks for reviewing and enjoy the show.

F3ARSOM3: I hope different translates to decent reading material. I can't claim to be a great author but at least I can do is to keep it mostly new. Thanks for teh review and hope it continues to be interesting.

* * *

><p>Tired eyes gazed beyond the rolling hills and battered lowlands, beyond the raider infested slums all the way to those impossibly distant walls. Just a few short weeks ago those same walls held hope and the promise of answers. Now, now they were a hopeless pipe dream. Hell, from here they may as well have been the moon. She was just as likely to reach one as the other at this point.<p>

Six watched the towering spire from the very hillside that just a few weeks ago should have been her grave. Three weeks, that's how long she'd been in recovery. That was a three week head start for that cheap suited bastard that had nearly ended her life. She honestly didn't know what to do next. She'd been robbed of everything she had, and hadn't nearly enough to restock for a trek through the desert. So here she was, sitting on a hill, with a nearly full whiskey bottle in her hand and not a single fuck to give about anything at the moment.

This was the scene Goodspring's resident peace keeper, Sunny Smiles, was presented with. A couple of whispers overheard at the saloon had sent her up here looking for Doc Michale's still unnamed patient. She was sitting with her back to the town so not much of her was visible at the moment. Clearly she wanted to be alone, but it wasn't like Sunny just to turn back now.

Cautiously she made her way up to the stranger, honestly she had no idea of what to expect from the woman. As of now she was as likely to shoot Sunny as she was to turn around and hug her. But as her feet brought her closer, Sunny started to see more of the stranger and started to lower her guard. She didn't have the look of a killer, truth be told she looked lost. If the rumors were to be believed that probably wasn't too far from the truth either.

Throwing caution to the wind Sunny closed the ever shrinking distance between them in a few short steps and took a seat in the sand beside the woman.

When the woman made no notice of her presence she pressed a bit trying to gain some attention."Quite a view isn't it."

Six blinked in response, before looking over her shoulder to the newcomer. And what a sight she was, not to say Six had seen many cowgirls before but this new person certainly fit the bill of one. Her accent as well was something to be noted, definitely not from around here.

After a short pause to assure herself the girl wasn't too much a threat she decided to entertain her desire to 'meet the new girl. ' "I suppose it is." She answered, "But something tells me you didn't walk all the way up here for the view."

"Well hearsay of Doc's mysterious patient up and about may have caught my ear." Sunny admitted. "And it might have been recommended that somebody help her back on her feet."

The woman smirked at the sheer irony of that one statement. "You don't know the half of it."

Sunny relaxed a bit at seeing her reaction, thinking she was finally getting somewhere with the stranger, "Well should you need should you need the help I've got a little work that I could use an extra pair if hands on."

"What sort of work?" Six eyed the newcomer warily. She knew she needed the help but at the same time, what little she had picked up on since her awakening revealed one simple and universal truth. No one helped anyone out of the kindness of their heart.

"I need someone to help run geckos off the the wells. There's too many for just Cheyenne and me and no one else here has any combat experience." Sunny explained, rather earnestly as well. But something there was off.

"Why do you assume I have anymore combat experience than them?" Six questioned.

Sunny for her part looked slightly taken aback at the question, "Your clothes, NCR issue. I just assumed you were a soldier at one point."

Six looked down at her dirt covered clothes and for the first time realized they did have the look of a uniform about them. Strange that she hadn't noticed it before then but she did have a lot on her mind. "Well, I'm no soldier, but you get me a rifle and I'll help you with your gecko problem."

"Really? That's great. I've got a small rifle I can lend you. It's not much but good enough for the smaller critters."

"Thanks, so, now that we'll be hunting together what do I call you?"

"Name's Sunny, Sunny Smiles. And you?"

That simple question, not remarkable in the slightest, managed to ease her mind if only a bit. Because in truth, it wasn't the question that warmed her eyes, it was the answer and the memories that it lived within. It was practically her only good memory, so she cherished it above any other. In the barest of whispers she breathed, "Six" The memory lasted only milliseconds but stole her mind away for an entirety. When it finally ended her eyes darkened but not to the extent they had been before, "My name is Six."

Sunny didn't miss the look of her eyes. That name, strange as is might have been, held meaning to her. Not that it was any of her business but from the way she reacted it must have been something or someone special. "It suits you. Look me up at the Prospector when your ready to make a few caps."

* * *

><p><em>"That's all for now folks. This is Mr. New Vegas signing off-"<em>

Trudy turned and switched off the small radio she kept behind the counter. It was almost time to close up shop for the night and the only patrons left this late were Sunny and that dog of hers. Not bad company usually but today she said she'd be waiting on someone and had decided to wait on them in the other room.

Not much happened in this town on the day to day, so the prospect of someone new was both intriguing and a bit worrisome considering their last visitor wound up shot six times and robbed. Not the best track record for visitors around here, though if anyone was stupid enough to start anything in her saloon they'd soon be taught the error of their ways courtesy of her .357

It wasn't until she started wiping down the countertop that she heard the door open. She couldn't see anyone entering from behind her bar, but she heard them clear as day. "Sunny." The voice was flat and even but unmistakably feminine.

"Six, good to see you. You ready for a bit of hunting."

Trudy could hear the grin on the faceless woman as she spoke again, "Yea, lets give em' hell."

"Good, here's that rifle I promised. Simple and straight forward, it shouldn't give you any trouble."

There was a short pause followed by a metallic clack of a magazine being loaded. Trudy didn't know if this stranger having a loaded gun in her bar was such a good idea but she trusted Sunny enough not to barge into the other room with a gun drawn. "Thanks, it'll do fine. Now lets put it to use."

"Alright, let me get a few things together and I'll meet you on the road out of town."

No more words were traded between the two. The sounds of a chair scraping the floor followed by light footfalls walking out the door echoed around the corner, leaving her alone again. Not that she would complain about that, all she wanted this late was to crawl into bed and sleep off another drearily slow day. And that was exactly what she was going to do as she walked around the overly long countertop and made a beeline for the door.

On the outside of the threshold the bite of the cold night air knocked the sleep right out of her eyes. Like a twenty degree bitch slap, it was sure to get your attention. Of course once the initial shock all that remained was the hatred for the cold that only someone in a mid-summer dress could possess. Quickly she set off for her cozy little house on the edge of town.

As it would happen she passed Sunny's newest acquaintance. The woman looked out over the desert with a thousand yard stare that left Trudy just slightly wary of this new girl. Aside from her very distant demeanor she was a very average looking woman. Hell, the only remarkable thing about her was her hair. White, not the most common hair color of a young woman. She might have greeted the stranger another day, but as it stood it was the middle of the night and colder than it had any right to be.

* * *

><p>Six felt the eyes studying her from afar but paid the passing barkeep no mind. Her mind was elsewhere, more it was everywhere around her. The prospect of another hunt had opened the floodgates of her senses. Honed by a life she couldn't remember they automatically picked up on the most subtle queues that normally would pass unnoticed.<p>

The prowling coyotes in the hills to the north or the the whine of a Radscorpion as it charged feebly at a Raven who by now was sailing safely overhead. And finally Sunny Smiles herself trotting up the road with her four legged shadow in tow.

"You ready?" She called out as she approached.

Six answered with a curt nod and fell into step beside the shorter woman. Sunny lead them down the asphalt for a minute or so longer before taking up a trail cutting a swath in the brush overgrowing the hillside. The rise crested just in sight of the metallic domes of the well covers and around them sulking forms hunting in the shadows. All the rest was a downhill trek towards the bottom of the gully that the thick underbrush seemed to radiate outwards from.

Six drew to a halt here at the top of the hill, leaving Sunny just down the incline ahead of her wondering why the woman had stopped. "We're gonna need to get a bit closer." Her words fell on deaf ears as Six slung the rifle around off her shoulder and took up aim at the closest gecko in the vally.

**-CRACK-**

The plume of dust a foot left of her target confirmed her suspicions. This was not her rifle and its sights were not in proper alignment. A small inconvenience, the bolt was cycled and a compensated shot was lined up on the animal still trying to determine what just happened.

**-CRACK-**

One body drops and another takes its place in her sights. The action cycles smoothly at her hand and another round is ready to hurdle downrange.

**-CRACK-**

Another body adds is blood to that already pooling at the base of the water pipes. Another spent shell is dropped from the action and another fresh bullet takes up its place.

**-CRACK-**

Sunny could only stand by and watch in a mixture of awe and horror as the entire pack of lizards were systematicly exterminated by a single woman. She was a machine, that's all there was to it, not a single bullet wasted aside from her first.

As the magazine expended it's last shot her hand glided over the bolt and in a seamless transaction flew to her pocket to retrieve another. The new shots were loaded before the spent clip hit the sand at her feet. This was too much for Sunny to comprehend, this woman… wasn't possible. That's all there was, she'd seen veteran snipers from the Desert Rangers and the NCR in action and none of them had the grace… no not grace, ruthlessness with a firearm as this girl. After the onesided engagement ended and the echoes of the rifle died away in the wind she could only sum up three words at the inhuman display of efficiency. "What. The. Hell."

The woman didn't answer right away, letting her icy eyes scan the surrounding flora for any movement outside of Cheyenne trotting from body to body, investigating the dead lizards one by one. When, and only when her search turned up nothing did life return to her eyes and her lips parted with an undignified "Huh?"

Sunny didn't lower her tone at the woman's confusion. "That! Whatever the hell that was…"

Seconds ticked by as Six searched for what the woman was raving about. There was nothing significant in her eyes, they had been en route to eliminate a pack of geckos, nothing wrong so far. It'd been fairly easy going, just a short trot up a hill, then she… "Oh, that."

Sunny for her part wasn't holding up to well. But then again the woman who'd so far had seemed just a lone drifter had just turned ruthless killer with the precision of a damned robot. In her opinion she was handling the situation quite well. "Don't just act like that's fucking normal. What the hell are you?"

She hid her wince well at the venom laced words being spat at her. Though she'd just barely met this woman it hurt no less than someone she'd known all her life accusing her. Six searched her eyes and found nothing but pure blinding fear. Taking a half step backwards she silently mumbled a meek apology, "I… I'm sorry..." Then proceeded to flee the scene.

* * *

><p>"Hey Easy."<p>

The elder man sighed into his drink at the call of his nickname. He hated that damn name, and sure enough it was his own damn fault he was saddled with it too. When years ago he was young and stupid he'd staked a claim on a nice little slice of prewar salvage. He paraded his claim all over that saloon, insisting he'd finally found the ticket to the "easy life."

Two fuckin' weeks later and who shows up on site but the metal clad bastards calling themselves the Brotherhood. God damn pricks, now here he was wasting away in the same damn saloon and scraping by on a stash of prewar mining explosives he'd stumbled across.

He peered over his shoulder at the two brothers, Joseph and Eric Collins, getting happily wasted just at noon. "Yeah?"

Eric, the younger of the two leaned over and in a barely hushed voice asked, "You heard what went down last night out by the wells? About Sunny's hired help?" The boy was often know to exaggerate wild claims and had quickly established a reputation for being, quote, "A lying, no good, son of a bitch." So when it came to drunken story time Pete was hardly surprised to hear of another flight of fancy.

But, then again, in such a small town, if you could call it that, entertainment was hard to come by. And so it was decided that he would indulge the younger boy's imagination, if only for the sake of a few laughs. "Can't say I have. You know something I don't?"

A snide, crooked grin broke out across the boys face. This was going to be good.

"You see," He started before checking the saloon for any prying eyes, or ears as the case may have been. "When Sunny was taking the new girl out to the wells she just all of a sudden snapped. Her eyes glazed over and and she just went mad, slung her rifle around and just went mad, sprayed more lead downrange than an NCR recruit. Total killing spree, nothing was left breathing down there, hell the only reason Sunny made it back was cuz she ran out of bullets."

The old man stared at him for a moment after he finished, feigning bafflement before bursting into laughter. "Boy, I don't know what's better that you expect others to buy that shit or that you yourself believe it."

Joseph sat back in his chair taking a swig of beer with the story. After Pete was done holding his sides he decided to step in, "Easy there Pete. He might be full of shit, but most of what he just said is god's honest truth.

Looking at the elder brother with near disappointment he muttered, "Oh don't go telling me you bought into that crap too. I know damn well there were at least two rifles going off last night. No way a bolt action gets off that many shots in a minute, not a chance in hell."

"I know, but Sunny swears on her life it was all the girl. And that only once did she miss." He took another drink off the bottle before slamming it down on the table. "Scary shit ain't it?"

"Not as scary as actually seeing it." Three heads whipped around to see none other than Sunny Smiles taking a seat two stools down from the Pete.

"Hey Sunny," Eric began, for some reason still whispering. "Tell 'em what happened. What really happened."

Sunny's head dropped further than it was already hung seemingly defying what was humanly possible. "Look, can we drop the whole thing, please."

"What's gotten into you girl?" Pete asked whilst waving off Eric's no doubt smartass remark.

She looked up at him, shame clearly etched into her features, "Look it wasn't dealt with quite as well as it should have alright. She took off without even getting paid."

"So," Eric's remarks would not go unheard this time, "Sounds to me like you did us a favor, scaring that crazy bitch off."

One step too far. A bottle launched itself from Sunny's grip to fly across the bar and introduced itself to Eric's skull. The already buzzed young man saw a flash of white as he toppled from his chair and hit the floor, hard. Joseph, ever the "loyal" sibling, simply laughed himself to tears at the drunken idiot's downfall. Not that it wasn't an unusual sight, Eric wound up in a fight at least once a week, and how he was usually the better part of drunk he often ended up much like this. But damn if it never got old.

Pete didn't pay the brothers anymore mind as he tossed a couple caps on the counter to cover his drink before following after Sunny. "God damn kids.."

He didn't even make it out the door before a glinting steel muzzle was thrust into his face. On the other end of the gleaming .357 was a murderous stare worn by an apparent NCRCF resident. His eyes held no life and the rest of his scared face was every bit as warming as radscorpion.

With only a seconds hesitation to look at his target a finger tightened around the trigger. The hammer fell forward and the revolver barked the last sound "Easy" Pete would hear in this life.

* * *

><p>AN: Well, like I said. It was a wait but I hope it wasn't too bad. I'm holding out hope the next chapter will be a bit quicker, and hopefully better even. Wouldn't that be a sight...<p> 


	6. Chapter 5 Nightmare

AN: So, after a little bit of thought, I decided Christine's story was one worth telling as well. And so, what do you get but moar nonsensical chapters thrown together in a free word pad app. Do enjoy...

* * *

><p>"What the hell are you?"<p>

This silently muttered query was spoken into a rifle scope looking out over a great expanse of desert sand and weather beaten rock. And floating in the crossairs was the object of the voice's question.

A full body suit of some ages old material looking to be in a permanent battle with rot. Latched onto what she assumed to be the face was a clunky breathing apparatus rhythmically expelling a ghastly mist. Clutched in its gloved fingers was a rusted pole brandished with gleaming alloy knife blades at the head. This body dragged itself across the desert sand without any measure of direction or urgency. Merely limping from dune to dune without cause.

Christine adjusted her arm to better support the weight of her rifle on the sand. She'd been observing the wanderer for at least half and hour and the feeling was beginning to drain from her forearm holding the rifle. At one point she was hopeful this person was local to the region and could've helped give her some direction. Now though she wasn't sure it was even human. It's movements were limp, as if it was simply a puppet dangling from unseen strings. Somehow this thing just didn't stack up as human.

Abruptly her thoughts on the creature were cut though by a sharp bite on the back of her neck. On reflex her hand shot back to hopefully kill the offending insect making a meal of her skin. Unfortunately it was not be, her hand slapped the back of her neck and the buzzing off her left shoulder told her she had lost the duel. With a defeated sigh she returned to observing the wanderer.

But instead of the aimlessly meandering body she found two reflective lenses staring right back though the scope. "Oh shit."

The body coiled and launched itself at her looking more predatory feline than human. She jumped to her feet, rifle in hand, to better track its movement but instead of landing like the bipedal creature it was it took the landing in a roll, preserving its momentum and used it to leap straight at her. Only blind luck carried her crossairs over its outstretched form as she fired.

A sickly green ichor erupted out of its back as the dead weigh slammed into her like a rampaging Bighorn taking them both back to the ground. Pausing for a moment she thanked the gods above for sparing her life today. She was only brought back to reality by the stench coming from the body oozing green sludge over her chest. The corpse smelled twelve weeks dead not twelve seconds and the rot mixed with the blood and other unpleasant odors sent bile crawling its way up her throat.

Pushing the putrid corpse off her, she gasped for fresh air and fought to keep her last meal in its place. That thing... definitely not human... and definitely something she hoped to not see again for some time in the near future. Then she looked down and saw she was still covered in a good half gallon of foul smelling ichor and she lost the fight with her stomach.

After picking up her fallen rifle and leaving her breakfast behind in the sand she once again set off on her quest for the lost Sierra Madre. Back to chasing bloody ghosts and dead rumors. That was until a soft rustle from behind her caught her ear.

She didn't even have time to fully turn before the freight train of flesh plowed into her back and for the second time sent them both tumbling in the sand. Fingers of course sandpaper scraped over her armor like a feral dog pawing at it's prey. In a desperate bid at freedom she shoved an elbow behind her in hopes of dislodging her foe. A bid that paid off as her blow landed and the weight fell backwards.

Instinctively her hand went to her combat knife sheathed at the small of her back only to feel emptiness. When she stood again she saw why. Held in a reversed grip flat against its forearm was her only weapon other than her rifle witch it also stood over. The beast took a moment and turned its eyes to the still bleeding bullet hole right though where its heart should have been.

Heavily dosed with fear at the undying abomination Christine unconsciously took a step backward. That movement was enough draw it's murderous stare back at her. Without warning it pounced at her sweeping the air at her face with the knife as it went. A last second twitch saved her life but wasn't enough to entirely avoid the attack.

Ignoring the sting below her eye she ducked and rammed her shoulder into its chest and took it to the ground. The beast however wasn't about to be pinned there, two heavy plated boots struck her chest as they fell and as they landed it launched her over it's head to land in the sand some ten feet away. Maybe it was luck or divine intervention but she wasn't about to question it as she looked up and beheld the barrel of her discarded rifle. Greedily she snatched it from the sand and brought it to bear on the suited figure picking it's blade out of the sand.

Three studs of steel aligned over its chest as she opened fire. Adrenaline flooding her veins she didn't even hear the banshee scream leaving her throat as the rifle bucked wildly aginst her shoulder and hole after bloody hole was blown though its cloaked body. Only after the receiver gave a metallic clack signaling the end of her mag did the smoking barrel lower. The body was sprawled out with bullets buried in nearly every square inch of its torso and a few stragglers punching neat holes in its respirator, but thankfully it was unmoving.

With her immediate safety secured she sank to her knees, exhaustion taking its hold on her body. The scuffle had barely lasted a minute, yet her heart felt as if it was attempting to escape her chest and her limbs felt like they had sandbags tied to them. But through it all one question burned hotter than the pains of battle. _"What. The. Fuck. Was that Thing?"_

Her eyes didn't leave the corpse for another ten minutes. She wanted, needed to make sure it was dead. Only when a winged scavenger dived down and perched itself on the bloodstained fabric of its chest did she dare blink.

She didn't care that the gunfire would probably draw nearby predators to investigate. She didn't care that there were probably more than one of those abominations hunting the desert sands. She just laid back, rested her head in the sand and closed her eyes.

* * *

><p>Searchlights burned the darkness away scouring the rocky outcropping she'd taken refuge in. The approaching grind of steel wheels on stone didn't help ease her mind, especially since the blinding light would sweep over her position every couple of minutes. Closer the grinding came until at last it was standing practically on top of her. She held her breath as the seven foot robotic sentry rolled past her and continued searching the bolder field farther and farther away. Her eyes followed it until it was out of sight, finally she allowed herself to exhale and turn her attention back to the shrapnel buried in her arm.<p>

The sleeve of her armor was drenched in red, making the wound look much worse at a glance than it actually was. She supposed she was lucky that the bombs weren't designed as fragmentation devices, but she didn't feel lucky. Seeing the helpless bodies running from the sentries, bombs tied around their necks.

Gritting her teeth she took her knife and plunged it in after one of the more shallow fragments. She had hesitated when one got too close. She should've put her down, but she just couldn't pull the trigger. Now look where she was, prying gnarled steel from her bicep and that nameless goul painting the rim of a blast crater.

_That old bastard was going to get his, she swore-_

**"TARGET ACQUIRED!"**

"Shit!" Her head whipped about to see her long lost robotic pursuer looming over her. She hadn't a gun to defend herself nor the strength to run any farther in her current state. The sound of the other Sentries storming the rock crevice around her just brought it all to a neat point. This was the end. But just as quickly as hope abandoned her it returned in the form of a deafening explosion and a hail of machine gun fire. When she dared open her eyes the air was clouded by smoke and dust but through the war torn landscape one figure stood victorious. And it was a figure she'd recognize anywhere. "Six!"

It was her, the courier from Mojave Outpost. She'd found her, saved her even. "Haven't seen a lost girl out here have ya? Cute little thing from out west?"

It was her. Six stepped closer bringing more of her into focus, she was different now. No longer in unfitted fatigues now she sported a tattered cloak over her shoulders and a dark cowl draped over her head. She couldn't see her face though. "Couldn't stay away huh?" She called out to her savior.

She never got her answer as her head jerked up and in place of the pale blue orbs she remembered there were the two golden lenses she'd never forget. Drawing a previously unseen spear from its back it lunged at her and all gave way to darkness.

* * *

><p>Christine jumped awake from her impromptu bed of sand, eyes searching for the object of her nightmare. The sun had set leaving only darkness in it's wake but enough light was cast by the stars to see there was nothing there. And that was both comforting but more so unnerving. Because there was nothing to see and she meant nothing, the body had disappeared whilst she was out.<p>

Stains of green dribbled down the dune becoming thinner and thinner until they disappeared entirely. Shaken from her nightmare and further terrified at the undying abomination's disappearance she did the only thing her mind could see to do. She ran.

Fear is a powerful thing. Few forces can push a body to its very limits and then past as well as fear can. Facing down one's death at the hands of a creature that had no right to be in this realm of existence. That's one sure fire place to find more than a bit of terror, and once found, fear van be a hell of a thing to shake as Christine had found.

Only putting distance between herself and that thing mattered. Nothing else, not concern for traitors to the brotherhood, not concern for her own survival once she finally tired of running. Only that devil and her distance from it was important, and as her mind thought of it, of how fast it moved, and of how sharp it's senses were her pace only grew faster and faster until her legs couldn't physically carry her and quicker.

She lost all sense of time and direction in her flight over the desert sands. All she knew was that it wasn't until her legs failed her and her lungs burned like they'd been set aflame did she stop. Or, more collapsed really, at the base of a corrugated steel wall of a shack half buried in a sand dune. From any other direction she'd have passed right over it and never knew it was there, but luck it seemed favored her tonight as she stumbled across it at the very brink of exhaustion.

As the last dregs of strength drained from her fingers and her body slumped she felt a door open before her. Light spilled out over the sands and illuminated her slouched form, she didn't care what it was inside, not even when the click of a safety being disabled souned from within. Tears welled in her eyes, and she didn't care. Her journey cut down so swiftly by the undying hunter, her own mind even sought to turn against her. Now this was where it ended, exhausted both physically and emotionally kneeling at the door of some desert scavenger with a gun.

The sole bark of a lone pistol echoed across the desert and faded into the wind leaving only silence in its wake.

...

...

...

Three full heartbeats after the pistol fired, a lifetime in and of itself, Christine finally looked up at the resident shack owner. Standing a full head and a half over her at full height was an elderly man that had to have been pushing eighty years. His eyes sunken with heavy bags lining them and an unkempt beard that was long void of color.

In his hand was the source of her worry, a smoking .45 auto. But it wasn't aimed at her, more behind her. She really didn't want to turn around, fearful that she'd see the hunter from earlier. There really wasn't any reason to believe it had followed her this far but the logical part of her brain had also been left far behind. Leaving only the primal instinct that screamed at her to run.

"Who are ya?"

She blinked at the question, at first not realizing that the man was talking and then thinking of what the answer was. "Christine. My name's Christine." She was even having trouble with coherent sentences now.

The man lowered his gun but didn't holster it. "Christine huh? Ya ought know this place ain't safe after sundown. Might as well come in, for you call the Ghosts on us both."

* * *

><p>A teacup was set before her, breaking her thousand yard stare and turning her attention to the elderly man who's dining room she now sat. The room itself wasn't large by any stretch of the imagination but spacious enough to comfortably seat three around the table and still have room between them and the two wooden cabinets taking up opposite walls. She'd had a fair amount of time to acclimate herself to the environment after practically being carried inside by the man. His face though hardened by age spoke of understanding in her situation as he motioned to the steaming drink he had prepared for her.<p>

"Drink," he said sliding the cup closer to her, "I'll help to calm you ya down."

Her fingers brushed over the porcelain, bringing it before her face without though. Breathing in the steam off the liquid seemed to bring life back into her senses. She took a small sip, not recognizing the flavor but at the same time not caring as warmth slowly returned to her body.

It wasn't until she looked down and saw the empty cup did her mind fully return to herself. By then the man had taken the seat on the other end of the small dining table. He had his pistol disassembled on a towel laid in front of him, seemingly oblivious to the world as he went through the motions of cleaning the weapon.

"You saw one didn't you?" He asked without looking up from the task in front of him. "The desert Ghosts."

Ghosts was it? A fitting name for them she supposed. "Not entirely sure what I saw. It looked human enough but... nothing should move the way that thing does."

The man nodded, beginning the task of reassembling his weapon now. "Yup, It was one of 'em all right. Damn things move like the storm waters and are just as difficult to kill." He worked the slide on his newly assembled pistol a few times before replacing the magazine and returning it to his holster, apparently finished with it. "Your luckier than most that run across one."

She sure as hell didn't feel lucky. "How so?" She asked already with a good idea of what the answer would be.

"Your still alive." He replied confirming what she thought. "Most don't even see 'em coming, and for those that do it's usually too late."

"What are they?" She seen alot in her time with the COS. Super mutants and ghouls were one thing but their bodies near always retained something of their former humanity. But this Ghost? It was like an entirely different species. "It's not just a simple byproduct of mutation, is it?"

"There are more mysteries between Heaven and Earth than we'll ever understand. And There are a thousand and one that I'd rather think about than those monsters."

_Unexpected..._

"All I can say for certain is they travel with the red mist. In autumn, as the winds shift and the storms grow violent you'll sometimes see a blood red cloud following in the rain. It's nasty stuff, burns the skin and chokes yer lungs. But it's in that mist, that's where you'll see 'em. Packs of Ghosts ten strong at times. Every now and again one gets left behind. Then they just wander about, never really going anywhere until another cloud of mist comes through."

"So where's this cloud come from?"

The man leaned back in his chair and ran a hand over his fuzz covered chin, a philosopher's pose if ever there was one. "Have you every heard the legend of the Sierra Madre?"

* * *

><p>AN: And that takes care of that lil bit o plot. Like it? Hate it? Completely indifferent to the ramblings of a questionably sane idiot? Press the review button and let me know already.<p> 


	7. Chapter 6 Merciful Killer

AN: The Idiot awaketh, and with him a bounty of new fallout chapters. Actually it's just the one but oh well, between work, side work, and generally surviving it's a miracle I find time to write anymore. Plus Fanfiction made it ten times more difficult to post chapters from my mobile. I don't have a computer, I don't get that option... and I'm ranting again. Pay no mimd, enjoy the sixth installment of Six's story. Now if only it was the 6th...

SpenceretteN7- Thank's you ever so much for reviewing. The ghosts were my favorite enemy in all of fallout. A real horror twist on the whole game, the uber deadly hunter of unknown origins, and the inability to stay dead. I couldn't get enough of them. So I put a healthy dose in Christine's story. Anywayz, enjoy zeh show.

* * *

><p><strong>-BANG-<strong>

She would've jumped had she the energy. As it was, the solitary gunshot was left to fade away whist she shakily stood from her bed in the sand and shook said sand from her hair. Time must've gotten away from her, the sun was high in the sky and the empty whiskey bottle she'd been nursing the night before had disappeared into the dust.

As the dregs of sleep were pushed from her mind by what was sure to be one hell of a headache she reached out to snatch her rifle from the dirt. On instinct the first things her hands went to the dusted bolt and trigger mechanisms. Calloused hands brushed the dirt from steel and went to work insuring proper functionality. All this, just motions of muscles, left her mind to venture into memory.

Not surprisingly she quickly found herself reliving the previous night's escapades. One of the two people she semi-trusted in this life had very blatantly labeled her a freak of nature. That struck her deeply for some reason, maybe another memory still locked away tight. All she knew was the look in Sunny's eyes was one she wouldn't soon forget, but for now she was tired of feeling. The whiskey had numbed the wound when it was fresh, and now it was time to move on. At least she thought, not like there was any great wisdom to be found in her.

'_Just get hammered and stumble onward'_

Hell of a philosophy that. Mood set and rifle fit for duty she crawled out from the shadow of the watertower that she'd slept under and set course for Goodsprings. No matter how badly she wanted to leave this town for good she NEEDED the caps Sunny owed her. And that meant stowing her emotions long enough to collect. _'Who knows, maybe she's still so terrified she'll just hand over the money as a plea for mercy.'_

The wooden memorials past her by, as did the freshly dug unmarked pit. She didn't look at it, couldn't look. Her very own grave, not a sight she enjoyed. And moreover, now behind her as she started back towards the quiet little village.

Her feet found the dirt trail that cut the gentle slope a winding scar down it's face. With uncaring steps her boots dragged her closer still to the town's one distinguishing landmark. The Prospector. There was not a soul to be seen nor heard, not unexpected given the desert sun baking the earth beneath their feet. But at the same time, someone must've had something to do outside. It didn't seem at all right that everyone would chose to hide from the heat.

She eventually rounded the corner of the general store and was instantly froze dead in her tracks. Her mind raced to catch up with her eyes, on the front deck of the Prospector was the lifeless form of an elderly man she'd yet to have met. Now from the neat hole drilled in his forehead she guessed she wouldn't be getting that opportunity. She searched for anyone, victim, captive, or otherwise that could've given her more information on the situation, and found none.

Not a soul was visible, working to her extreme disadvantage. For all she knew they had crosairs lined up over her face at this very moment. Taking that reality to heart she jerked her head back around the corner and started to form up a plan. First things first, why not just run? She owed these people nothing, and this conflict she had no part in yet could be well deserved for all she knew.

But at the same time, something was holding her back. The sight of that old man, executed and lying in his own blood struck a chord in her. It was wrong. And she wouldn't make it far broke as she was. So, running out the window left fighting an unknown number of yet unidentified enemies in a relatively unknown environment. Challenging wasn't the word for it.

Scouting the town would be to risky, to many places to hide, and she didn't know it well enough to try to escape during a firefight. That left the surrounding hillsides, where she was much more at home. But how to draw them out?

* * *

><p>After half an hour of stalking around the hillsides surrounding the town she'd located a grass covered knoll that provided her a clear view over most the town and more importantly a unobstructed view inside the Prospecter. From what she couldmake tell there were at least five in the front room and an unknown number in the back, all with relatively light munitions. Couple of low caliber handguns, breach loaded shotguns, and a scarce few revolvers scattered about. The weapons then were there more for the intimidation factor than armed conflict. That said, she was also outnumbered, severly.<p>

It wasn't hard to pick out the leader either, decked out in full riot response gear as opposed to the standard prison fare the rest wore. On top of that their movements also hinted at him being someone of importance, how they responded to his presence and how they all reported to him at some point or another.

He was of a darker skin tone, maybe in his late twenties from what she could make out, and a veteran of at least one armed conflict if the scaring over his face and hands was any indication of his past. Not so strange then that the others would follow his lead, especially considering how green the others were at this line of work. Sloppy patrols and constantly needing direction in every posting.

Common sense would dictate that their combat effectiveness would be crippled with him lost, they may even cease all together and run for the hills without a competent leader, and she had the perfect shot lined up, right on the back of his shaven head. So why then couldn't she pull the trigger.

_"Because no one deserves to die."_

_She felt more than heard these words, spoken in a voice belonging purely to ghosts of memory. Lapses in concentration were the last thing she needed. Forcing the thoughts from her mind she checked her target once more, but instead of the band of convicts hiding in a saloon there was group of slavers, six strong, taking a leisurely stroll through a gully below her position._

_Their gear hinted at their occupation, poorly concealed shackles and nets being the most obvious clues. The not so oblivious being the non lethal ammunition held separate from their primarily stock and the empty packs each one carried in addition to their relatively light loadout._

_They preyed on the weak and the too easily trusting. Anyone outside a large group was fair game, such were the laws of the wasteland. At least under normal circumstances, this however was outside anything that resembled normal._

_A small voice spoke up from beside her, "What is it? Who are they?" The queries fired from her favourite eight-year-old girl._

_"Slavers, from down south by the looks of it." She scanned over their group once more to confirm her suspicions, but there was no mistaking them for anything else._

_"Why are they here, what do they want?" Jessie wasn't scared, concerned maybe, but you didn't survive in The Divide living with fear._

_She knew very well what the answer was, but Jessie no matter how tough she acted was still just a kid. "I don't know, nothing good though I can see."_

_"Your gonna stop them though, right?" This was why she didn't want Jessie following her. She didn't need to see this side of the world yet. "Your not gonna let them take us?"_

_"No, they're not hurting anyone." She took her eyes off the young girl for the barest moment to check the skies again. The storm that had been brewing miles off was baring down on them. Faster than expected, it came with Living in the Divide. Constantly hammered by storms the likes of witch would strip the flesh from bone if you were caught unprepared. One developed a sense for feeling changes in the weather here, these slavers likely had no idea what was about to hit them._

_Jess seemed to know as well, "Another storm?" She nodded her affirmation. "We should go, they won't be a problem then."_

_"You go Jess. Get to shelter. I'll take care of them." Her eyes looked about to argue but Six beat her to it, "No buts now go."_

_"Be safe." And with that she was off._

_Six watched the girl run off before turning her eyes to the wall of sand and debris driven by the wind growing ever closer._

* * *

><p><em>She gripped her cloak tighter around her form, in moments the Kevlar weave and riot mask would be the only things between her and a hail of airborne razors. With that in mind she quickened her pace towards the group that had changed its course to meet her. Two of them had split off the moment they noticed her approach, likely circling behind her, the rest for now they wore welcoming faces and the facade of open arms to put the victims at ease, but she knew better.<em>

_"Afternoon 'ere lass" Very strange accent, definitely not from around here, a migrant tribe maybe? The appointed leader wore leather armor the same as the rest, but his face stood him out as a great number of tribal markings adorned the left half of his face, starting at the eye and radiating outward. The rest stood back, faces clean of identifying marks. "You wouldn't happen to 'ave seen a tradin post around? Me nd my boys 'ere are strapped for supplies."_

_She had to give it to them, they were half decent actors. She'd likely have been fooled by the man in her youth, but that was a lifetime ago. Nevertheless, maybe civility would prevail if only this once, "Please stranger, there is nothing for you and your associates here. I would recommend you turn back and ration what you have left."_

_The facade held as he shook his head in what was supposed to be good humor, "Nah, Not an option I'm afraid. Sure you don't know anywhere at all?" Still friendly, goons must not yet be in position._

_Her gaze hardened behind her mask, "You and your boys aren't welcome here. I ask that you leave peacefully before we have to remove you."_

_His face never faulted, "That's a real shame lass, it really is. I's hoping not to 'ave to rough ya up. But if its come to that… BOYS!" The two goons reappeared maybe fifteen feet behind her. Each one a net in hand, just daring her to run. "Nothing personal girl, just making a living. Wrong place wrong time."_

_Her gaze didn't waver, "Last chance." Her mind was counting down the seconds as the breeze picked up behind her._

_"Oh yea, and pray tell, jus what are you gonna… do…" his remaining words died in his throat as a wind driven wall of sand blasted over the cliff face that she had descended from minuets before. For the first time his face fell and fear crept into his eyes._

_Before another order could be barked the wind hit with the force of a truck and didn't relent. She'd felt the wrath of the Divide before, the sand and glass shredded cotton and leather like paper and skin fared little better. Like thousands of tiny daggers thrown at every exposed inch of flesh. It was a pain so unlike any other, even the feared abominations inhabiting the Divide sought shelter from it. So she had little trouble out of them as she quickly incapacitated them one by one and dragged their unconscious forms to an alcove in the bottom of the cliff side, sheltered from the storm's winds._

_It was there she left them, naked as the day they were born and with barely enough water to return them to a southern village. The wasteland would sort them now, her job was done._

_The storm passed fairly quick after that, strange but not all that surprising given the unpredictablity of the weather here. Now as she stood atop her perk overlooking the valley, rifle resting atop her shoulder, six citizens of the wasteland awoke to face their trial. Sparing no more than fearful glances over their shoulders they set off back to where they originated from._

_Beside her Jess was making her return trip to view the aftermath. As she drew to a stop beside her guardian she looked up to ask a question, "You let them leave? Why?"_

_She couldn't answer that right away. Ideas carried by people often don't convey to well to others, especially if they were born of very specific circumstances. The message all to often lost behind the method. After a few seconds she decided on the simplest explanation, "Because no one deserves to die."_

_The girl wasn't going to be satisfied by that, never would've been able to leave it there. "What if they come back?"_

_Six took her eyes off the retreating crowd to meet the eyes of the eight-year-old. "The wasteland has a way of sorting it's own, if they come back, we'll deal with them then."_

* * *

><p>The memories faded just as quickly as they manifested. The seconds having passed as hours left her exactly where she stood beforehand. Staring down the sights of a rifle, at the armored convict likely in charge of the operation currently getting in her way. And she still had the perfect shot, and yet still forces unknown arrested her trigger finger.<p>

_"No one deserves to die."_

With a huff of frustration she dropped her rifle and began scanning the town for anything she may have missed. There wasn't much in the town to begin with residences and small gardens mostly, places of interest, Doc's house, old petrol station on the hill, and the general store. The general store off the bat had a mild selection of weapons and Chet had mentioned a small cache of explosives that he'd been saving for the right buyer.

hr /

She burned nearly forty minutes of daylight raiding the general store. But in the end came away with a ill fitting pre war biker's getup, comprised mainly of thick leather. Not a look she at all liked but at least it was some protection, later she would cut it down to just a basic suit of armor but for now she was stuck with it. Also in her bag of looted goodies were five firebombs from the highest proof spirits she could loot and and several sticks of dynamite from the "secret" stash under the mattress in the back.

All things said she'd preferred to have gotten more but circumstances as they were she would make do. It felt weird, having entire strangers lives balanced at the tip of her trigger finger, but at the same time it was also comfortably familiar.

A thought that clung to her brain as she took aim and without hesitation set her hastily laid plan into motion. First was the identified leader, remarkably he still had his back turned to her. Her sights danced across his lower back and eventually settled on a seam between the upper and lower portions.

**CRACK**

She paid no mind to the overly loud report of the rifle instead more intent on observing the results of her shot. As expected the unorganized scrambled for cover removed most of her targets but the leader was down for the count. The bullet found the unarmored seam and punched a messy hole in the Kevlar suit. From this distance if she had to guess it was spinal, he'd live if he got medical attention, but he wouldn't be walking for the rest of his natural born life.

The next victim was an older male, moving for the door, he took a round to the leg for his trouble. Two more followed shortly after, one standing to look out the window taking one to the shoulder, and the other being quote "Bit in the arse" as he tried to run deeper into the building.

_-Phase one 'stirred' complete-_

_-Phase two 'shaken'-_

From her pouch she drew a sole stick of dynamite and lit it. Standing up to throw finally gave away her position to the remaining convicts, a point they made clear as she felt the shot from the scattergun connect with her abdomen and send her forcefully back to the ground.

Immediately her hands went to the wound, and came back coated in red. Her eyes found it next, several small pin holes drilled through the leather. Thankfully it was just a small game load, anything heavier and she'd have been in trouble. Her thoughts however were cut short as the ground shook under the force of the explosion.

Teeth gritted and fists clenched she fought the pain of sitting up. It was all she could manage to climb to her knees. After witch she could see the effect of her plan. They were running scared. Explosions feet away from your position always had a way of putting the fear of god in a person.

She smiled as she drew another explosive bundle and pitched it over the rise, fuse lit. Their shouts of terror music to her ears. With one final pained effort she hauled herself to her feet to see several trios of convicts running for the highway carrying their injured between them. The next explosion tore through the air sending them bolting all the faster. As a final touch she grabbed up her rifle and shot the rest of the mag off to nip at their heels. Motivation to keep moving.

After they disappeared and she was relatively sure they weren't just circling around her she carefully strode back into town. One hand firmly plastered over her wounded stomach, the other around wrapped around her rifle. Thankfully the adrenaline from the shoot out was still doing its part to numb the wound, though not to severe from what she could feel, shallow shrapnel essentially with a hell of a bruise to go along with it, it still was going to hurt like hell later.

So, priority one, find Doc. Then money.

* * *

><p>AN: So, there she be. Six saves the day, yay! But wait… She's a pacifist? Sorta. That all comes later. So stick around why not. Might be interesting. R&amp;R<p> 


End file.
